


Coda: S14E18 "Absence"

by WaywardAF67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Episode: s14e18 Absence, Hopeful Ending, Post-Episode: s14e18 Absence, Season/Series 14, Season/Series 14 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardAF67/pseuds/WaywardAF67
Summary: Castiel is contemplating his role in the Winchester's lives when a knock on his door reassures all his worries.





	Coda: S14E18 "Absence"

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. I want to say thanks to mrshays for betaing this for me. All the mistakes are still my own. They made some great suggestions and some that I still stuck with my writing style and choice for this fic. But I am so grateful for them being able to read before I posted this.
> 
> And as always thanks to EllenofOz for finding time in her busy weekend to still read this for me. Thanks WaywardJenn for reading and suggesting.

Cas knows Sam was right to hold him back out by the pyre. Dean needed his space, needed time to mourn, but Cas  _ needed _ his friend to know how sorry he was for keeping silent. If he’d only been honest with himself about Jack, Mary might still be here. They could be playing the stupid mouse trap game Dean insisted was fun instead of sitting in their respective bedrooms, alone. Cas is so tired of being alone, exhausted by running from every time he’s failed the Winchesters. 

For the first time since he’s met Dean, Cas considers going home for good. There is a spark of hope that Naomi would let him do something in Heaven, given how much they are struggling. Even the isolation of imprisonment would feel better than the look of disgust in Dean’s eyes when he told Cas he was dead to him. If Cas were home, the empty wouldn’t get him, and Sam and Dean would be safe from any other screw-ups. 

His chest burns at the thought of leaving his family behind, but Dean won’t even look at him, and of course, Sam’s loyalties lay with his brother. All Sam did was give him a pitying look and another pat on the shoulder before shuffling off to his own room. 

It’s never made sense to him why Sam and Dean mourn alone. They are hurting for the same reason, and if what Cas is feeling is only a fraction of their loss, he doesn’t know how they can stand to be alone. The hollowness inside is threatening to swallow him whole. He’s almost desperate enough to ask Dean to just humor him––allow him to sit on the floor in the corner of Dean’s room, just so he doesn’t have to keep replaying Mary’s joyful squeal as a four-year-old Dean jumps from his father’s arms into hers. Seeing her in her heaven, happy with her family was all Cas needed to see to know that Dumah was right. Mary’s chapter is over, but her story lives on. 

The deal she made, the demon blood, the apocalypse, and every subsequent disaster that followed and will continue to follow, all because she couldn’t be alone without the love of her life. It wasn’t her fault, not really. Heaven wanted the apocalypse, they needed Sam and Dean strong. If it wasn’t Mary it would have been John, and the path may have been different, but the destination would have been the same. 

Cas rubs a closed fist over his heart and drops onto his bed. The memory foam Dean insisted he get because  _ even if you don’t sleep, Cas, you deserve to relax _ . He regrets his anger toward Mary. He’d been so mad at her for abandoning Dean when all Castiel himself ever wanted was to stay. She had the chance and chose to run. He would find himself driving for hours on a solo mission wishing he was with his family, not isolated in a tiny box on wheels. He always wanted to be in the bunker working with Jack, teaching him how to use his powers. Helping Dean cook, or answering Sam’s questions on the lore. Maybe if he’d been home more things with Jack wouldn’t have turned out the way they had. 

Cas paces the floor as if he could somehow walk his worry away. Jack had never perfected angel radio, and Cas wasn’t sure his signal was transmitting, but he closed his eyes and bowed his head regardless. 

_ Jack, son, we are not mad at you. Whatever happened between you and Mary was an accident. We know that, and we forgive you. We just want to know what happened. Please come home and talk to us, Jack. We need you.  _

Even in Castiel’s own mind, he stumbles over the phrase, years of hearing  _ I need you _ and knowing that it was never quite enough. He focuses on those words now.  

_ I love you we all do. We want you back and we can figure this out. Just please, please Jack, come home.  _

The knock at his door startles Cas out of his prayer and he’s thankful Sam has come to check on him. Maybe he, too, was wondering why they aren’t being more supportive of one another. 

Cas gasps softly as he pulls the door open and sees Dean standing in front of his door. He’s wearing his favorite lounge pants and holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey. 

“Hey, um. You got a minute?” Dean asks quietly, watching his feet as they shuffle. 

This isn’t what he was expecting, but it’s exactly what he wanted, Still, Castiel is wary of talking to Dean right now. He can’t handle being asked to leave again, and though his mind had been all but made up, Dean telling him he was no longer welcome in his home for a second time might actually kill him. But it’s not like Cas can refuse Dean, so he steps aside and sweeps his arm back, a clear invitation. 

Dean’s eyes are bloodshot and glassy, and Cas knows this look. Dean sits on Cas’ bed, tucking his socked feet under himself and hunching his shoulders as he curls in on himself. A rare vulnerable pose for Dean. 

The silence is killing him as Cas waits several long moments for Dean to speak. Finally, when he can’t take it anymore, he does the only thing he knows how to do––he tries to apologize. 

“Dean I...”

“Don’t. Just don’t, okay? There’s nothing to be sorry for, Cas. We saw it, we all saw it and just kept going forward. It’s like Sam said: he became family. I’ve––” Dean purses his lips and shakes his head before taking a long pull from his bottle. Dean offers it out to Cas, but there isn’t enough left for Cas to feel anything, so he shakes his head. Dean needs what’s left. 

Dean takes a smaller sip and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing. “I just watched my mom burn to death for the second time. And as much I want to blame Jack, and…” Dean top lip twitches as he draws his brows together, pain showing clear as the words he’s speaking. “I don’t want to lose him again, not like this. Going Darkside? I can’t, Cas. I just...can’t.”

The bottle slips from Dean’s fingers and lands on the floor with a loud thump. The brown liquid sloshes out as the bottle lands on its side. Dean’s head falls into his hand and for the first time ever, Cas hears him sob. Deep breaths coming in as gasps 

Cas drops to his knees, the spilled booze soaking into his pants, as he wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him forward. He goes willingly, and because Cas was expecting a little resistance, Dean crashes into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. So sorry.” 

Cas cups the back of Dean’s head with one hand and grips the back of worn, soft t-shirt fabric with the other. He wants to list all the things he’s done wrong, every time he’s failed Dean, and how he would do things differently. But the hunter is shaking his head back and forth, mumbling into Cas’ coat. So the angel stays quiet, and though he can’t understand what his friend is saying, he listens intently. 

“...shouldn’t have said it, Cas. I’m sorry. I can’t do this without you.” Dean’s crying has tapered, and Cas isn't surprised. It’s the biggest display of emotion he’s ever seen, so it doesn’t surprise Cas that it passes so quickly. 

Dean, breathing starts to slow and Cas tries to pull away with the intention of getting his friend a box of tissue and a glass of water, but Dean’s fingers dig into his back as he tries to pull away. Cas takes a moment to decide if a glass of water is worth breaking the moment. Dean is rarely so open and even though Cas suspects embarrassment will follow, he’s sure the release of emotion must feel like a relief. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” Cas settles back on his heels, holding Dean close to him, but not so tight that the hunter couldn’t easily pull away when he’s ready. 

Several long moments pass and Cas finds himself running soothing fingers through Dean’s soft hair. While Cas was debating his return to heaven, Dean had been showering the stench of smoke and death from his skin, leaving behind the warm sandalwood scent of his body wash.

When Dean finally pulls back, Cas selfishly misses the contact. He suspects Dean will go back to his usual repression, leaving Sam and Cas feeling the loss of not only Mary’s death and Jack’s disappearance but also Dean himself. The small smiles, the nerdy outbursts about the thing he’s reading up on, the subsequent denial of said outburst. They will have to deal with a lost Dean, only he will be sitting right next to him. He will probably hunt for weeks on end, hiding from, and repressing, anything that reminded him of his mother or their wayward son. And though Cas will miss that Dean, and will likely get snapped at, swung at, and maybe even forced to accompany Dean to a strip club or Chuck-forbid another brothel, he’s ready to do what it takes to show Dean that one angry phrase, muttered out of desperation, isn’t going to drive Cas away. They are a family and more than ever they need to come together to offer comfort and forgive harsh words. 

“Can I stay?” Dean mumbles into Cas’ shoulder. “Sam’s already asleep and—I just want to stay.” 

“Of course, Dean. You’re always welcome wherever I am.” 

Cas stands and rids himself of his shoes, overcoat, and suit jacket while Dean wiggles himself under the covers, the empty bottle of whiskey long forgotten. With Heaven being so low on power, Cas knows  _ mojoing  _ a glass of water would be seen as a waste of limited grace, but he can’t stand the thought of leaving Dean, and he knows his friend could use a cold drink. The grateful look on Dean’s s face as he guzzles down swallow after swallow proves to Castiel that there isn’t anything where Dean’s concerned that would be considered a waste. 

It takes them several long moments to get situated in bed, and a small part of his heart sings when Dean sidles up to him and nudges his arm out of the way, giving him full access to lay on Cas’ chest. The angel isn’t sure if this is cuddling or comforting, or some strange mix of both. But whatever it is, he’s happy Dean came to him—elated to know he’s needed. He wishes the circumstances were different, but as Dean drifts off to sleep, Cas wraps him in a bone-crushing hug and thanks anyone listening that Dean didn’t mean what he said. 


End file.
